


Full of Stars

by heartstrings



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstrings/pseuds/heartstrings
Summary: Jonny's upset about the losing streak and Patrick finds a way to bring him out of it.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 23
Kudos: 297





	Full of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely self-indulgent and something I wrote after the Hawks lost _another_ game and the only way to console myself was to imagine 1988 making filthy yet gentle love. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to boodreaus for the quick and excellent beta!

Jonny opens him with four fingers. It’s the standard number of fingers. Or, well, it’s their standard. Patrick’s tight, even years later, and Jonny’s big, bigger than most, bigger than anyone else he’s been with. Maybe it’s a combination of Patrick being small and Jonny being large. Maybe it’s a matter of Jonny being overly cautious in regards to Patrick’s body. It’s probably all of the above.

As it is, Patrick’s more than stretched open by the time Jonny slips his cock inside, impossibly thick and long, filling Patrick up with his warmth, every single inch of him until a punched out breath escapes his lungs and he melts back into the pillows. Above him, Jonny is mostly still and quiet, giving Patrick’s body a moment to adjust. He leans in and mouths absently over Patrick’s jaw, nuzzling his nose into the curls near his temple.

Patrick tilts his head back for a kiss, eyes mostly closed and hands trailing over Jonny’s broad back. He receives the kiss he’s silently asking for, but it’s shallow, the barest brush of lips and then Jonny’s gone again. Patrick opens his eyes, curious to why Jonny didn’t deepen it, but before he can form any words, the thought is erased from his mind as Jonny begins to slowly thrust inside him.

With anyone else, this might feel like part of the build up, the drag of a match over a striker, waiting for the flame to be lit. With Jonny, it’s gasoline and burning flames, the pumping of his hips to the press of his cock directly against Patrick’s prostate. 

An explosion.

He can’t hold back the moans that fall from his mouth or the precome that drips from his own dick as Jonny sets into a rhythm. It makes his brain fuzzy and his limbs tingle every single time. It should be impossible for the sex to still be this good after being together for so long and yet it always is, even when they’re coming off a night like tonight. 

Another loss. The fourth loss in a row. It’s not exactly a new thing. It’s not even the first time the Hawks have lost four in a row this season, let alone the last few seasons. But that’s the bitch of it all. It never stops feeling awful every time it happens, it never feels less like a failure, like Patrick’s letting everyone around him down.

If he’d only made a better pass…

If he’d only put that puck in the back of the net…

If he’d only gotten to the right spot at the right time…

The doubts are endless in the wake of a losing streak.

They tell the media they’re taking it one game at a time, they’re not panicking, they’re not losing confidence in the team but it’s easier to say the words than it is to believe them. Patrick has to fight to not let himself get lost in the self-defeating thoughts and the downward spiral, the negativity that can consume him if he lets it. Jonny’s good about bringing him out of it, reassuring him that one bad game or a bad stretch doesn’t define him.

“You’re amazing, Peeks. Nothing and no one can take that away from you. Not even if you had an entire season of bad games. Which you’ve never had,” Jonny said to him once. One of a thousand times.

It’s the kind of memory he keeps in his back pocket for days like this. He’ll pull it out and replay it in his head and let Jonny’s confidence wash over him, wrap him up, keep him safe. Just like Jonny’s holding him close now.

He presses in deeper, pulls out faster, the slick drag of his cock rubbing up against Patrick’s insides and his stretched rim so perfectly he shivers and tightens his legs around Jonny’s waist, trying to pull him in that invisible inch closer. He wants so many things all at once when they’re entwined like this: to be pressed further into the mattress until he can’t move, to be on top of Jonny so he can fuck himself down harder on his cock, to tug Jonny’s face to his own so they can kiss and kiss and kiss, to be flipped to his belly and rutted against, Jonny taking from him until they’re both mindless with it and nothing else matters but chasing their pleasure.

For now, he tilts his head up again, searching for Jonny’s mouth, needing to be connected to him in more ways than just one. 

“Jonny,” he murmurs, panting as Jonny works over his body.

“Mmm?” It’s a quiet hum, and Patrick blinks, attempting to clear the fog of lust from his gaze. He looks up and traces Jonny’s features, the tightness of his jaw, the red flush of his cheeks, the thin line of his mouth, the distant, unfocused state of his dark eyes.

Patrick reaches out and cups a hand around Jonny’s cheek, thumb brushing over the rough stubble of his incoming beard. “Hey.”

He leans up and captures Jonny’s mouth in a gentle kiss. It’s shockingly brief. He tries again, licking over the seam of Jonny’s lips before Jonny pulls back.

“Hey, you.” Jonny trails his nose along Patrick’s cheek, his smile sweet, but strained.

He hasn’t stopped the thrust of his hips this entire time, his fat cock moving in and out of Patrick without interruptions, his movements smooth and skilled. He doesn’t press continuously over Patrick’s prostate, not yet. He knows better, knows to draw it out, letting the fire grow on its own instead of forcing it and risking them both burning out too quickly.

“Where’d you go?” Patrick asks. A large, warm hand fits around his rib cage, inching up, and then fingers are tweaking one of his nipples, rolling the bud, plucking it, moving from the left to the right, and back again.

Patrick cries out, arching up, trying to chase the sensation. Jonny leans in and at first Patrick thinks finally, he’ll receive the kiss he’s been craving. No. Jonny moves farther south, his tongue peeking out to circle Patrick’s left nipple, lap at it, suck it. He feels himself clench down on Jonny’s cock, hard, causing a ripple effect between them. 

He tries to catch Jonny’s eyes again, moving his hand from Jonny’s cheek to the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He tugs, pleading.

“ _Jonny_.”

“Nowhere?” Jonny says, his forehead furrowing. “I’m right here.”

He lowers both arms to Patrick’s thighs and hitches them higher, off of Jonny’s waist and to Patrick’s chest, bending him in half so Jonny can move more freely, can fuck in a little bit deeper. He won’t meet Patrick’s eyes.

 _You feel far away_ , Patrick thinks. And it isn’t fair, Jonny shouldn’t be able to scramble his brain like this when he’s caught in his own head, stressed, worried, disconnected.

Patrick can’t let this continue. He can’t lose the thread before it’s too late.

Part of him wishes he’d asked for only three fingers. That’d he’d made Jonny work to get inside him. He should’ve challenged him, given him a goal outside of hockey that they both had to work for, where they both win. Jonny’s never better than when he’s striving to beat his own personal best. And Patrick likes the pressure of taking his body to the limit, the way the pain heightens the pleasure, the sting of his hole stretching to take Jonny’s thick cock inside and fit around him like he was made to do.

Maybe it’s selfish to always need Jonny’s full attention on him. He knows he’s lucky to have Jonny, is still occasionally scared shitless that he’ll fuck it up and lose him, even if Jonny reminds him every day how much he’s loved and wanted.

When they first started sleeping together, Patrick would detach himself from anything that wasn’t purely physical. It was too overwhelming and frightening to be present inside his head while he let Jonny inside his body. Easier just to feel, let Jonny’s touch, his mouth, his hands, his lips, and tongue, and dick take over Patrick’s thoughts like a smoke fog drowning everything else out. So it’s not surprising the first time Jonny told Patrick he loved him while they were fucking Patrick came so hard he cried and blacked out.

Jonny knows how to break through his walls and get to the heart of him alarmingly well. It’s one of those things he’s worked at being the best at. And he is, there’s no one better.

If Jonny needs Patrick to be the person to break through his fog tonight, find his hand in the darkness and bring him back, he will. He’ll be that person for Jonny every night.

There’s a simmering heat low in his belly, his balls beginning to tighten with his impending orgasm, and Patrick shakes, trying to hold back the sob stuck in his throat as Jonny leans back on his knees, grips Patrick’s ass and pulls his cheeks open. He’s staring at his big cock sliding in and out of Patrick’s wet, pink hole, almost mesmerized by the sight.

Patrick reaches down between their bodies, bypassing his own leaking dick and trails his fingers lower, to where they’re connected, circling around as much of Jonny as he can manage as Jonny continues to move inside him.

Jonny grunts at the touch, his nails digging into Patrick’s skin. The first sign since they stepped in the hotel room and Jonny stripped him of his clothes and put him on his back, pushing into him, that shows he’s affected by what they’re doing. Patrick wants more.

He chases the feeling, biting his lip as he whimpers.

“Daddy.”

It’s a whisper among the slap of skin and the rustling of the bed beneath them. Patrick almost isn’t sure he said it out loud until he feels Jonny suddenly jolt and still.

His eyes snap up, dark enough they’re glittering, and looking nowhere but right at Patrick. Finally.

“What did you say?” he asks, low, sounding rough like gravel.

Patrick feels painfully vulnerable and exposed, enough he has to turn his head into the pillow. All he’s wanted is for Jonny to see him and now that he is, it’s too much.

He fists the sheets in his hands and licks his lips, letting out a trembling breath as Jonny lowers himself down until their chests are touching.

“Daddy, please,” he begs, unable to keep the rawness from his voice.

Jonny bodily shudders and presses his face to Patrick’s neck, tugging him close.

Patrick wraps around him like it’s the most natural thing he’s ever done, arms and legs curling up and keeping Jonny exactly where he wants him. There’s a tongue licking over his pulse point, lips and teeth scraping along his jaw and a sucking kiss to his Adam’s apple. Then Jonny raises his head and their eyes meet again.

“You close?”

“Yes,” Patrick whimpers, trying to fuck himself down on Jonny’s cock, encouraging him to begin moving again.

He gets the hint and picks up the pace, slow and steady at first, bypassing fast and going directly for hard and deep. It’s an assault on Patrick’s prostate and every one of his nerve endings, Jonny lighting up him up inside like he’s a goddamn night sky full of stars. 

It’s so good Patrick feels his eyes roll back in his head. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” he pleads.

Jonny’s lips touch the shell of his ear. “If you want to come, you have to ask for it, baby.”

“Can I come? I need to come so badly.” 

“Not like that. Like before. Say it again,” he orders.

Patrick clenches down again, shaking as he feels on the edge. Jonny shoves in measured and sharp, once, then twice.

“Can-,” he tries and finds the words glued to the back of his throat. He opens his eyes, finds Jonny staring down at him, his black gaze piercing and intense. It’s too much and it’s exactly everything Patrick wants. “C-Can I come, Daddy?”

Jonny jerks forward and growls. “Yes, baby. Come now.”

He starts pistoning his hips right over that perfect spot and Patrick arches up off the bed. e barely has to touch the head of his own dick, sobbing as his orgasm hits. He sprays over his belly and chest, making a mess between their bodies as he says, “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” and dissolves.

Above him Jonny sounds like a feral animal, low, guttural snarls mixed in with quiet rumbling. He comes almost immediately after Patrick, rocking and jolting inelegantly as he empties himself inside Patrick.

The two of them stay pressed tightly together in the aftermath, breathing.

“Peeks,” Jonny says into his neck, kissing him there. He scrapes his teeth over Patrick’s skin in a way Patrick knows means he wants to suck a bruise there, leave teeth imprints. In the summer, away from prying eyes he lets Jonny mark him up as much as possible. During the season, they’ve decided against it. Patrick hates that they’ve made it a rule. He’s almost ready to tell Jonny to screw it altogether when he feels a slick kiss touch his neck instead. Another kiss on the corner of his mouth, another directly on his lips.

Jonny’s tongue is wet and hot, purposeful as he enters Patrick’s mouth and steals his breath away. The last of his two brain cells remaining say goodbye as Jonny kisses him until Patrick’s toes curl and he goes completely and utterly boneless.

“There you are,” Patrick sighs, as Jonny pulls back, his smile impossibly soft.

“I liked that,” Jonny says.

“I can tell. You’re still hard.”

“Rock hard,” Jonny laughs, grinding in against Patrick’s ass in demonstration. “Give me a few minutes and I might be able to fuck you again.”

The thought makes Patrick shiver. He clenches down gently, just to feel Jonny twitch inside him, wanting to keep him close, so he won’t leave yet.

“I would’ve said it sooner if I knew I’d get this reaction.”

He brings a hand up and rubs it over his face, pushing his hair off his forehead. He isn’t avoiding Jonny’s eyes, not exactly. He just...well. It’s easier to talk about this if he’s distracted.

Jonny pulls his hand away, balancing on his one bent arm as he brings Patrick’s palm up to his mouth to kiss. “How long have you been thinking about it?”

Patrick touches Jonny’s temple, and the sweaty ends of his hair, traces a dark eyebrow; all of these pieces that make up his very favorite face. “I don’t know. A while.”

Jonny kisses his wrist, his inner elbow and bicep, places Patrick’s arm around his neck. No more hiding.

“Vague.”

“A few years,” Patrick tries again.

Jonny’s eyes flash. He smirks, smug and pleased. “ _Years_.”

Patrick scoffs, more for show than anything, but he can already feel the uncertainty settling in.

“Is that…is it…”

Jonny’s expression shifts, transforming into tender devotion. “Okay? Baby, it’s more than okay. God, you fuck me up in the best ways. I love you.”

Patrick wants to sink inside Jonny’s skin and never leave.

“Love _you_ ,” he murmurs and pulls Jonny down for another soul-searing kiss.


End file.
